Memory, Bosom-spring Of Joy.

A Man May Devote Himself To Death And Destruction To Save A Nation; But No Nation Will Devote Itself To Death And Destruction To Save Mankind.

Poetry Is Certainly Something More Than Good Sense, But It Must Be Good Sense, At All Events, Just As A Palace Is More Than A House, But It Must Be A House, At Least.

Not One Man In A Thousand Has Either Strength Of Mind Or Goodness Of Heart To Be An Atheist.

The Jews Would Not Willingly Tread Upon The Smallest Piece Of Paper In Their Way, But Took It Up; For Possibly, They Say, The Name Of God May Be On It. Though There Was A Little Superstition In This, Yet Truly There Is Nothing But Good Religion In It, If We Apply It To Men. Trample Not On Any; There May Be Some Work Of Grace There, That Thou Knowest Not Of. The Name Of God May Be Written Upon That Soul Thou Treadest On; It May Be A Soul That Christ Thought So Much Of, As To Give His Precious Blood For It; Therefore Despise It Not.

In The Deepest Night Of Trouble And Sorrow God Gives Us So Much To Be Thankful For That We Need Never Cease Our Singing. With All Our Wisdom And Foresight We Can Take A Lesson In Gladness And Gratitude From The Happy Bird That Sings All Night, As If The Day Were Not Long Enough To Tell Its Joy.